The Great Game
by BobbyP
Summary: AU in which Sherlock and Moriarty work together. Jim commits the crimes, Sherlock solves them. That is, until one dusty Autumn day, when their associate, Mike Stamford, introduces them to a friend. (Pretty short chapters (sorry) may possibly end in Johnlock/Sheriarty, not sure yet) (Tiny bit of swearing)
1. Chapter 1

**The Great Game.**

Jim had known Sherlock for as long as he could remember. Ever since he killed that boy, Powers, he and Sherlock had been practically inseparable. He thought he'd never get caught, until one day, the boy in the long coat swanned into his life, and solved the murder. The police didn't listen to him, obviously. An eight year old boy solves a murder committed by an eleven year old boy? Poisoned shoes? 'Never heard such bollocks.' Their words, not his. Jim would never criticise him like that. Because Sherlock was too much like him. Sherlock was clever. He was special.

With Jim unable to commit a crime Sherlock couldn't solve, and Sherlock being ridiculed and ignored by the local police, it had seemed the obvious option;They'd work together- Jim committing the crime, Sherlock solving it, but never catching Jim. Sherlock had become an international celebrity for his great intellect and powers of deduction before he had finished his sixth case. Jim was able to commit whatever crime he so chose, and frame anyone he wanted for it. Not that Jim did the killing. Not often anyway. He rather liked his well tailored suits, and it would be such a shame to get blood on the Westwood. If Jack The Ripper was a smooth criminal, Jim was a velvet crime lord. His vast network made him impossible to trace, his crimes so intricate, they were impossible to solve. (Unless, of course, your name is Sherlock Holmes.) He could disappear in an instant, he could never be traced, and should all else fail, he had a brother who would happily take the fall for him, and be grateful for the chance to serve his brother. And Sherlock? He got his dream. He got to deduce and solve and be every bit the genius Jim knew he was.

It was all going so well. And then, **_he_** happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Mike was late, as per usual.  
>The warehouse was dark and cold, but it didn't seem to affect the three men who stood before him. Sebastian and Severin leant either side of the table that was the only furnishing in the entire space. A single, harsh light lit up the table theatrically, and Mark was sure that Moriarty had set it up to intimidate him. Jim himself was perched on the centre of the table, between the muscular blond twins. The symmetry of their positions was surely no accident, Jim's OCD was more to blame than his flair for dramatic effect in this case.<p>

"Sorry, sorry, sir, it won't happen again-just hear me out, okay?" Mike had his hands raised, as though he were surrendering. It would actually be quite amusing, if it weren't so unerringly pathetic. Jim chuckled darkly and gave a sadistic smile.  
>There was a painful silence, and then, Jim spoke in his chillingly calm sing-song voice. "Now, now Mark, my dear. Calm down, will you? What is it? It better be good, because I seem to remember telling you that the next time you showed up late, I'd let Tiger have his fun with you."<br>There was an audible whimper as Mark rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper.  
>"I found one. It took longer than I expected, but I found him."<br>He held out the paper, bouncing on his heels as he waited for Moriarty to take it.

Jim looked at the paper with disgust. "Severin?"  
>Severin snatched the page and handed it to Sebastian, who read it out.<p>

"John Hamish Watson," He sighed, in his jagged voice, "Ex-military... Well, would ya look at that, buddy?" Severin smiled. "One of our own, huh? What makes you think he'll do it?"

Mark shuddered under the weight of Sebastian's glare. "Well, well, I-uh, well, that is to say-"  
>Severin grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground a few inches so he could snarl in his face. "Spit it out, Mark."<br>"Well, I know him. Personally. An old school friend, actually. Enjoyed the war a little too much, or so I heard, and besides, he has no-one left. He lives alone, and the only person he talks to is his psychiatrist. Even she says he's a write-off. He takes on this job, and he's back in the game. He's back where he belongs. The battlefield!"

Severin was still holding Mark by the collar, Sebastian just behind him. Then, there came a slow clapping sound from the table. Severin gently lowered Mike to the ground, still holding his collar.  
>"Now, now, boys, I think that's quite enough." Moriarty smiled, jumping off of his seat on the table to draw closer to Mark.<br>Sebastian slapped a hand on his brother's shoulder, and Severin threw Mark off of him, causing Mark to stumble back slightly.

Moriarty smiled his sickly sweet smile. "And you're sure he can handle it?"  
>Mark gasped for air and nodded.<br>"Well, then. Good job, Mark, my dear. I expect this **_Watson _**at the flat in 3 days time. Sebastian will fill you in on the details.

_**John Watson. **_Oh, if only he had known what would happen next, he'd have skinned John Watson and left him to rot, never mind employed him. But, you see, Jim was in need of someone to dispose of the bodies when he hadn't the time. Sebby and dear Severin had so much work on their hands already, what with all the targets Jim was pushing on them of late.

And so it was that John Hamish Watson came to live at 221B.


End file.
